Star-Crossed
by TheRealCamStarchaser
Summary: A chance encounter has brought this man and woman together. Will they become Skyrim's greatest love story or will they end up killing each other?


**The Ambush**

"Sir!" yells a frantic Stormcloak Scout sprinting through the halls of the fort. He finally stops in front of his commander's desk appearing mildly hysterical and out of breath. The officer observes the scout and arises from his desk in a manner only shown by someone of authority. "What is it?" asks the commander in an assertive tone. The scout finally catches his breath, straightening up to the position of attention "Imperials, sir" explains the scout "They are approaching the fort from the west." He ponders for a moment his next action. As he runs his fingers through his short chestnut hair he replies "How many?" "Approximately twenty-five, sir" explains the scout "they appear to be traveling toward Riften." "They must be attempting to confide in the Black-Briar household to overthrow the Jarl, and advance their troops" says the commander as he begins to show an unamused smirk "Well, their journey ends here. Inform Lieutenant Ralof to prepare the troops for a fight." "Yes, sir" exclaims the scout as he returns to the exterior of the fort. Once the scout has departed, the commander approaches his armor chest at the foot of his rack. Upon opening the chest, he removes his father's steel Blades' armor, and lays it on his straw covered bed. He then turns back to the chest now revealing his father's steel plated helmet. "Talos preserve me" he prays as he equips his armor.

"Archers!" shouts an officer in Stormcloak armor "you all will be stationed atop the ridge side overlooking the entrance of the camp." He is answered by twenty men wielding bows with resounding approval. "Scouts and Foot Soldiers will be in wait on the opposite end of the fort" continues the officer "you all will be with me waiting for the commander's signal." The remaining fifteen men take their positions in hiding. "Ralof" calls the commander from the fort's entrance. "Cam" replies the veteran officer "the men are awaiting your orders." "Good" says the young commander "This should not be too difficult. Just follow my orders and everything will be over shortly." "Be careful, Cam, I hear that the Imperials have acquired a new officer who I hear has at least a hundred kills under his belt" explains Ralof. "Come on Ralof, have you forgotten that we are Ulfric's personal militia group" says Cam with a chuckle "I'm sure we can handle one soldier, and there's no way anyone has taken out a hundred people." "Maybe you're right" says Ralof with a small sigh "we are Nords! To victory or Savngarde!" "That's more like it my friend" replies Cam giving Ralof a pat on the shoulder "after we're done I'll break out the Honningbrew Mead." Hearing this, Ralof begins to smile as he places his Stormcloak helmet atop his long blonde hair. As Ralof joins the other soldiers, Cam equips his great sword, "Utholde", sheathing it onto his back and begins his trek up the ridge overlooking the fort.

"Damn it's colder than an ice wraith's breath out here" inputs one of the archers as he rubs his hands together "this has to be the worst Frostfall ever." All the archers slowly huddle closer together as they wait for the incoming enemy. Suddenly one of the archers motions toward the path where the Imperial regiment is approaching. "Alright men prepare your bows" commands Cam removing Utholde from its sheathe "on my command. Fire!" Immediately, a barrage of arrows flies towards the unsuspecting Legionnaires impaling five men. In panic, the Legionnaires frantically race for the fort where Ralof and the other men lie in wait. "On my command men" instructs Ralof as he unsheathes his axe "Charge!" Out of a horror movie, the Stormcloaks emerge from the shadows, preying onto the already soiled Legion. One by one Legionnaires begin to fall as Stormcloaks unleash hell. After a brief skirmish, only a handful of Legion remain. "Well commander" says Ralof as he places his axe precisely at the unarmed officer's neck "do your troops yield?" "You Stormcloaks really are ignorant" explains the Legionnaire with a smirk. "Apparently you think this is some game" says Ralof beginning to sound frustrated. He begins to press his axe against his neck till a small trickle of blood begins to form. "I won't ask again" states Ralof intently "do you yield?" "Why don't you ask my commander" says the man pointing toward the ridge. In confusion, Cam swivels around to find an ebony sword pointing straight at his neck. Standing before him now is a dark figure wearing a charcoal colored skin tight suit with a face concealing hood. The figure stood approximately the same height as the commander with a slightly smaller physique. "Do you yield?" asks the masked figure. "You must be the great commander I've heard so much about" says Cam attempting to remain calm. "Yield or die" states the officer now glaring at him with sharp green eyes. Taking a moment, Cam realizes that the figure's feet are in a position of unbalance "I have a better idea." Suddenly leg sweeps the figure causing it to collapse to the ground. Once on the ground, the figure hastily returns to its feet "that was luck" it says furrowing its brow. Cam immediately draws his sword preparing for the figure to retaliate. As a moment of stillness passes, the figure thrusts at Cam with its sword immediately being deflected by the commander. As the encounter continues, the remaining men observe in angst as the two commanders curve their swords at one another with no remorse. "You fight well" states the figure "no one has ever lasted this long with me." "Your stories are bullshit" says Cam as he comes around again for another thrust. "Is it?" states the figure as it chuckles. Suddenly the figure makes a move never seen before, causing Cam to release his sword to the ground. Before he can retaliate, the figure makes a quick and precise thrust driving its sword into Cam's abdomen. "AAAHHH!" yells Cam as he falls to the ground. Every Stormcloak immediately stands in disbelief as their commander lay on the ground slowly slipping away. As his vision fades, the figure stands eerily above "to Sovngarde."


End file.
